


Bandaging Problems

by orphan_account



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Awkward Sexual Situations, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Friends With Benefits, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-25
Updated: 2019-11-04
Packaged: 2021-01-03 00:14:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21170231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: It was strictly professional. A mutually beneficial agreement between two consenting adults. Put in place simply to keep their sanities in check.But it seems, despite approaching the problem with what they thought was sound logic, they had not considered that it might backfire. And despite strategic planning being his area of expertise, it seemed he had overlooked one crucial detail… Well, all of the details, actually.Ultimately, if you play stupid games, you win stupid prizes.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Writing trash fanfics for a fandom I’m absolutely late to is very fun. I hope some people on the internet will at least enjoy it!
> 
> Trying to keep the Inquisitor description to a minimum so everyone can self-insert theirs! \o/ Gonna borrow some lines from the game.

Commander Cullen Stanton Rutherford had never considered the possibility that maybe the esteemed Lady Trevelyan of Ostwick, headstrong and noble leader of the Inquisition, might also have some_ earthly desires_ as any other person. She had always seemed so prim, proper, and focused on her goals. Always ready to make tough decisions, jump into battle, or help anyone in need. She had the makings of a hero.

So, of course, his surprise all but caused him to freeze on the spot, eyes wide and mouth agape, when he finds said lady in front of him… fully naked on her bed, legs open and pleasuring herself.

He couldn’t quite tell if it was the most unfortunate timing that she was at the peak of her ecstasy, back arching and crying out, when he had reached the top of the stairs to her bedroom, head turning to call out her respected title, or if he was actually very fortunate to witness the tail end of such a fascinating act.

No, he couldn’t quite tell for it seemed his mind had frozen along with the rest of his body. And certain bits. 

It took a few breaths before she opened her eyes and realized he’s there. She yelps, her reaction mirroring his in horror as she hastily covers what she could of herself with the velvet sheets and mountain of pillows on her bed.

For what seemed like an eternity, they stayed unmoving, not knowing how to go on from such a precarious situation.

“I di—I—uh—that is…” He had managed to stammer after the gears in his mind very slowly started to turn again, “I shall have someone outfit your door with locks.” He holds up the files in his hand to block his vision of her, red from neck to ears, and trudged down the stairs to exit. She’s so baffled as to why she had not heard the heavy footsteps and clacking of metal before.

She buries her head in her pillow, wishing the veil would rip open and swallow her, and lifts it again when she hears said noises shuffling back and stopping in the same spot it had left.

“I-Inquisitor!” He started, voice clipped and loud, head turned to the side, paper still blocking his eyes, and face still completely red. “I, ah, apologize for being inappropriate!” 

Sweat trails down his forehead and he doesn’t know exactly what kind of demon or spirit possessed him to come back and blurt out, “B-but if you need any assistance… with any kind of matter…” He swallows. “I will be glad— erm— happy to— no, I-I might be able to help with…” He falters. He must have looked like he was about to faint right then and there. He felt like he did. 

She couldn’t believe what was happening.

“Cullen…” She buries her face into her hands and groans. “Get out.”

—

He stumbled off the stairs exiting the Inquisitor’s room and hurtled towards his office, pushing and shoving through dignitaries and nobility loitering the main hall, a sight you would never expect from the Commander of the Inquisition’s forces. His old chantry mothers and templar officers would have definitely disapproved. Josephine sure did.

He locks himself in his tower, trying to regain his composure. A hand grips hard on the pommel of his sword and he slowly evens out his breathing. _What in the void was I thinking? _He mentally kicks himself and recoils in the horrible realization that he was _not_, in fact, _thinking_ back there. 

But as he paced through his office, trying to make sense of what had just occurred, things started to piece together.

The Lady Herald had always put everyone else first. She had never hesitated nor ran away from all the responsibilities everyone had shoved at her, all because she was unlucky, or lucky, enough to be the one marked by Andraste. She’s always out there risking her own life to save people. She’s carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders and, of course, any kind of person will oftentimes buckle underneath it. She’s only human.

And he knows the feeling. Of always prioritizing work and other people. Always fighting for the greater good, always fighting for what he thinks is right and just. Even as the purpose skewed in front of him, he grew and learned and was now all the wiser. He had sacrificed everything and was willing to offer more for a chance at redemption and a better future for all.

He understands that sometimes, though, all of it catches up to you and leaves every bit of your body taut and twisted. A cloud will form in your head, hating and angry and snapping. The sky darkens its color, food loses its taste, an itch rises up from under your skin, and you end up wishing the next day never comes. It will do the Inquisition no good if its leader crumbles under such stress.

And a great way to get rid of such burdens is through physical release.

He reddens again as he thinks back to what had transpired and curses himself for acting like a naïve chantry boy. He can never get a hold of himself every time something of this nature comes up, especially when it involves someone as well-respected as the Inquisitor. But he has a job to do. To keep order. And his work always comes first.

He needs to collect himself and calmly discuss this matter with Lady Trevelyan again. It’s no different than the casual trysts he’d heard his fellow templars had back in the circles. This is a normal physical activity two people consent to for their benefit. A surefire way to keep one’s sanity in check. And he’s willing to be an adult about the situation and step up to the task. For the Inquisition’s sake, of course. 

He nods to himself. It all makes sense in his head.

—

She wonders if it would be better to jump off her window or just strangle herself with the scarf around her neck. Maybe ride out into the night and just yell for Corypheus to disintegrate her and get it all over with.

The Inquisitor sighs, frown deepening. How can she face the Commander now? Why did he even show up? How could she not hear him knock and walk up the stairs?

It was supposed to be a small relief before another day’s work. _To keep myself from burning out_, she reasoned as she woke up sweating from a dream she couldn’t recall. No one usually came into her room that early in the morning… Except, she remembers now, that she had asked the Commander the night before to brief her of this morning’s exercise and training of new recruits before she was supposed to _personally_ oversee it. ‘_For their morale and my own knowledge_.’ she had said.

Her groan echoes through her bedroom as her palms dug into her lidded eyes. _Maker_, shame courses through her whole body,_ how could I forget?_

There was no other way around it. She had faced countless enemies and closed a hole in the sky. Heck, she walked out of the Fade, survived an apocalyptic future, stared down a magister and his dragon, launched an avalanche on herself, and lead her people into a castle in the sky. This is nothing. There’s nothing to be afraid or ashamed of. It’s a normal activity people often do.

She steeled herself and proceeded to start her day but not before she buried her face in a pillow and screamed her lungs out.

— 

The morning light shines through the stained glass, making the huge curtains fluttering gently from the high ceilings of the main hall glow in color. The clanging of metal from the courtyard echoes softly above the polite greetings of visitors and soldiers milling about the castle. The cold air blows into the Inquisitor’s face as she exits the hall, squinting at the brightness and hues of the outside scenery. She takes a deep breath and descends the stairs, waving and smiling at familiar faces. Her stomach knots as she traipsed over to Cullen’s imposing figure who was busy barking orders at clumsy trainees.

“Have you started the drill already, Commander?” She said as she reached him, eyeing the recruits, or to be precise, trying to look at anything but him. “I’m sorry for being late.”

He stiffens, hands move to grip the pommel of his sword, and keeps his gaze locked straight. “It’s quite alright, Inquisitor.” He clears his throat. “I understand.”

An awkward pause stretches before he shouts at a rookie to “Keep that shield up!” He shakes his head. “If that were a fireball, you’d be dead!”

“How are they progressing so far?” She pushes down the tense feeling bubbling up her chest and glances at him. _For the love of the Maker, please, let’s move on._

“It’s not easy and they’re just starting out but they’re taking quite well to the new regimen.” He nods, a proud smirk slightly forming in his scarred lips. “Their spirits seem to heighten at the sight of you. These people signed up for a good cause and you remind them of that.” He finally looks at her, eyes meeting hers without hesitation. “So it’s good you took the time to come down and check on them.”

“Of course.” She nods at him and turns her gaze back at the trainees. She knows it’s no easy feat to pick up a weapon for the first time while knowing death looms over you, because it’s not play pretend anymore. It’s not wooden swords and padded arrows but heavy steel and sharp, pointed edges, and one wrong move and you lose everything.

She finally relaxed beside the Commander and breathes deeply. “Thank you, Cullen.” 

A short comfortable silence hung between them. The clanging of metal mixing with the grunts and yelps of recruits filled the air.

“I, uh…” He starts after a while, voice so soft and low, she could barely hear it. “My offer still stands, Lady Inquisitor.” He rubs the taut muscle in the back of his neck, slight red tinging his cheeks. “I fully understand the stress that comes with all these responsibilities, so I’d like to help keep you at ease.”

Her eyes bulged and she chokes on her own spit and coughs. _Andraste’s tits, I thought we were finally getting over it!_ She rapped her chest but she can’t tell if it’s her hand hitting it or her heart beating loudly that’s making the pounding noise in her ears.

“Cullen—” She wheezed in between coughs. Her face was completely flushed, the color bright, whether it’s from the lack of air or something else, only the Maker knows.

Whatever she was going to say after gets cut off as she got pulled back by a lean, golden brown arm.

“There you are!” Dorian exclaims. “I’ve been looking all over for you!”

He pushes the Inquisitor into the direction of the castle steps, leaving Cullen behind with the recruits. “Would you be a dear and help me convince Josephine to commission some scholars for a few Tevinter tomes? Our library is severely lacking and we can’t have that if there’s an ancient _Tevinter_ magister we barely know anything about running amok!”

She won’t admit it but she’s grateful for the interruption. She had balked at Cullen’s proposition the first time and would have called it ridiculous and rejected it again on the spot if she had gotten a hold of herself. But now she has a chance to think on it and maybe reconsider… After weighing the advantages and disadvantages, of course.

And right now, as her eyes trail at the shrinking figure of the Commander in the background, considering the soft curls of his blond hair, deep amber eyes and strong imposing body… There are more advantages than disadvantages so far.


	2. All in a Day’s Work

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a regular day in Skyhold. Except Dorian gets his way, Solas is infuriated, Vivienne is also mad, and Sera is Sera.

“Dorian, we simply do not have any excess gold to fund such a commission! You are looking for specific publications that are exclusive only to your home country. You know how hard it would be to pass those through the border, if the scholars would even agree to part with it at all!” Lady Montilyet huffed as she looked up at them from her oversized chair, quill swishing with her animated hand. “It would also take too much to make it untraceable to us. Countless letters to write, favors to owe, messengers to send, counterfeits to make, smugglers to risk. It is a headache we cannot afford right now.”

“Are you not concerned about the morbidly disfigured magister with a horribly terrifying dragon trying to bend time and space to become a god shimmying out there?” Dorian’s eyes narrow and he slaps his hand on the table. “Because I, for one, do not like the idea of handing over all of Thedas to him.”

They go back an forth for a while, giving the Inquisitor time to get lost in her thoughts. She taps Josephine’s desk and stares at the door heading to the War Table.

_I can just ask Sera or Iron Bull_, the idea makes her brows furrow. She can’t imagine herself doing that but somehow it’s so easy to consider Cullen as an option for a quick relief. She digs deeper in her mind to find out why and she’s met with the sounds of his luscious voice calling out her name, every single one echoing in her ears. She can tell he needs it too. Maker knows the man has had a rough life and she’s not against the idea of giving him some release.

She bites her lip and snaps back to reality when Dorian grunted in exasperation and looked at her expectantly. “This is the part where you come in.”

“Well…” She starts slowly, composing herself and trying to piece together what could count as a good compromise. “I understand this will risk some people but Dorian might be right. We could get information faster if we can look in the right places. Every little bit helps in our current situation.” 

“But Inquisitor, like I have stated before, we do not have the money to spare.” Josephine huffs again. “We have barely begun the reconstruction of Skyhold and it is eating up all the gold we have left.” 

They stood in silence for a moment before the Inquisitor starts again, “Perhaps we could allocate some funds from the luxuries we provide for the little lords and ladies here?” Leather glove slowly taps the desk. “I’m sure they can live without those expensive Antivan imported wine for a time.”

Dorian’s head snaps towards the Inquisitor. “Oh _no._ Not the _wine._” He cried in horror.

“Inquisitor, I would rather not upset our guests in such a way! They will take great offense if they are not served adequately!” Josephine looked absolutely scandalized. “We are trying to curry favors, not summon their ire.”

“Maybe we can use this to show them that our organization is running low on funds and would greatly appreciate more of their donations?” The Inquisitor tapped her chin pensively. “Kill two birds with one stone, and all that.” She said as she waved her hand. 

A thoughtful pause hung in the room as the Lady Ambassador considered the proposal.

“It might work… depending on how we present the situation, of course.” Josephine smiled as she slowly welcomed the idea.

“I’m sure they’ll be glad to throw gold at you just to keep pampering them. I would do the same just to get fed peeled grapes again.” Dorian commented haughtily.

“There we have it, Josephine.” The Inquisitor said, grateful to have found a solution. “I expect those books to be in the library as soon as possible.”

“Of course, Your Worship.” The Ambassador nods, reaching for her quill. “I will work on it right away.”

The Inquisitor turns to look at the man next to her. He mouths a happy ‘Thank you’ and hooks his arms with hers as they turn to leave the room. 

“It’s a shame about the wine.” Dorian said, closing the door behind them. “I rather enjoyed borrowing some bottles for myself.”

The Inquisitor raises an eyebrow following a small chuckle. “You mean _stealing_ some bottles for yourself?”

“Oh, I’m not that ill-mannered!” A mustached grin creeps up into the mage’s face. “I put the bottles _back_… after they were emptied.”

A door violently swinging open booms throughout the hall, stunning everyone into silence, followed by the sounds of angry stomping.

“Herald!” Solas bellowed, black marks adorning his face in what seemed to be the shape of a mustache, monocle, and unibrow. “Come with me.” He seethed and turned around to stomp back into his rotunda.

The Inquisitor followed the infuriated elf with a start, leaving Dorian behind. Very much confused and slightly amused at what’s going on, she enters the room and stands next to Solas, eyebrows shooting up and looking at him expectantly. Uncrossing his arms, the elf motions angrily toward the walls.

What were once beautiful murals were now vandalized with huge random doodles, some she could make out to be ladies’ bosoms and men’s private parts. She appreciates the masterpiece before sighing in defeat. “It’s Sera, isn’t it?”

“Who else could it be?” He snapped, crossing back his slender arms and staring furiously at the wall, unibrow scrunched in a frown.

She puts a comforting hand on the elf’s shoulder. “I’ll go have a word with her.” She turns to leave, eyeing the phallic shape drawn on the back of Solas’s head.

—

The Inquisitor silently trudged through the courtyard, thankful that the morning’s training had just concluded and she didn’t have to face the Commander again. Her fragile self isn’t ready for that discussion yet.

She opens the door to the tavern, Maryden’s song filling in the silence of the afternoon, and walks up the stairs, waving to Iron Bull along the way. As she turns at the landing, she sees Madame de Fer standing in front of Sera’s room. She gulps down the feeling of dread, _Vivienne never comes here._

She hears bits of the conversation— or confrontation?— as she approaches.

“You, darling, are an uncivilized rat! Crude and uncouth!” 

“Yeah? Well miss prissybreeches, you can smell my fat arse!”

A gasp. “How vulgar! Hand over my headdress so I may burn it and cleanse myself of this savagery.” 

“For the last time, I don’t know where your dumb frigging horns are and I don’t _care_ where they went! Shite prolly got tired of your bitchy face and ran away to get eaten by darkspawn!”

Vivienne turned her nose up and spins in her heels. “You should really teach your lackeys some manners, my dear.” She huffs at the Inquisitor and strides off, gait dignified and regal as ever.

“Hey you!” Sera’s face lights up in recognition. “You have to see what I came up with this morning.” She sniggers.

“About that…” The Inquisitor starts as she steps into the room, eyeing the buckets on the floor half-filled with black paint. “Solas is not very happy about it.” 

Sera snorts. “Yeah? Well maybe he should get rid of that huge frigging stick up his arse.” She throws her hands up in the air in exasperation. “I swear, the bloody people in this place and their fetish for huge sticks up their arses! Even General Uptight has his tits wound up more than usual!”

The Inquisitor’s eyebrow twitched at the last remark. “General Uptight?”

“Commander Ironbreeches! Kept yapping and yelling at the recruits outside my window this morning.” Sera crosses her arms and smirks. “So I dumped water on him.”

“Sera…” The Inquisitor’s gloved hands move up to pinch the bridge of her nose, wanting to believe the elf didn’t just say what she did. “You do know that’s his job, right?” 

“Not when it almost makes them cry, it’s not.” The elf taps her foot. “Hard for new blood to keep from wetting themselves when they’re against something like Coryphenis. Makes them want to turn tail and go home. We can’t have that. Gotta give them time to get their shites together. They’re just _little_ _people_.”

“I understand where you’re coming from but the Commander knows what he’s doing.” A sigh. She’s still not sure why she has to explain this. “He has more expertise in this than any of us.”

“Right, right.” The elf nods, uneven bangs bobbing. “But d’you know what he doesn’t have expertise on? _Shagging_, I bet.” 

“Sera!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried. Sorry these chapters are short!


	3. Tense

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen gets bullied and then ogled. The Inquisitor isn’t very fond of rain.

After the Inquisitor was abruptly dragged away that morning, leaving him with a heavy weight in his chest, Cassandra took it upon herself to brood next to Cullen and glare disapprovingly at the new regimen he had put the new recruits up with. Tutting and shaking her head at every single instruction he gives.

“Can I help you with something, Seeker?” He had asked after a while.

Her pointed glare shifts to him and she grunts, “You did not bother reading my list.”

“I don’t know what you’re referring to.” He replied after yelling at the trainees to keep their stances wide.

“No, you know exactly what it is, Commander.” She glared even further, if that were possible. “You need to take steps towards a full recovery. I can tell you are not doing anything about it.”

“Do anything about what, exactly?” He raised his eyebrow, eyes still watching the recruits.

“I am not blind, Cullen. I see the dark circles under your eyes. Your skin is paler than usual and your lips might as well be ashen.” She hissed vehemently. “I gave you a list to follow, to take care of yourself, so you do not shrivel up and _die_, yet you remain stubborn as a mule.”

“You don’t need to hound me like a mother, Cassandra. I’m doing fine.” He rubbed his hand on his pallid face. “I know my own limits.”

“You are right. I am not your caretaker.” She sighed and shook her head. “But you must remember, Commander, there is still much work to be done.”

She trod off and left him with a headache pooling in his temples. As he reached up to knead the pain away from his head, a messenger came up and handed him a small letter, claiming it just appeared in their hand out of the blue.

_“The rope winds tighter. Twisting, tensing, knotting. Only a warm heart can mend the frays.”_ it had read. His brows furrowed and the paper crumpled in his hand.

He didn’t need this right now.

He circled the recruits a few more times as the sun rises higher in the sky, moving his legs just to keep himself from sinking deeper into the thoughts and pain in his head. He growled orders here and there through gritted teeth. Catching, correcting, and chastising every little flaw, hoping to drown out the faint lyrium song playing in the back of his mind. His head spins as it gets louder and louder. Then cold water splashes onto him from above. 

He really didn’t need this right now. 

“My, my, Commander. Having a bath out in the open? Very unsightly.” Lady Vivienne passed by, glancing disapprovingly at him before she entered the tavern.

He sighed in defeat and dismissed the recruits. There was no use continuing on in his sorry state. He started the embarrassing trek to his tower, leaving puddles along the way. He sneezed, suddenly feeling exhausted.

—

Only half a day had passed and she already felt like plopping down in the bar and drown in alcohol with Iron Bull. 

It took a lot of prodding but the Inquisitor had managed to convince Sera to clean off the offending doodles on Solas’s walls and the rogue stomped off with a string of curses about uppity elfy-elves and fun never being allowed. She hopes the soldier she sent to monitor and help the elf was enough to keep everything in line.

Exiting through the third floor of the tavern and walking through the battlements, she made her way to Cullen’s tower, following the puddles on the floor. Despite her insides squirming and her feet wanting to turn back around and walk away, she felt bad for what Sera did and wanted to apologize on her behalf. The man was overworked enough as it is.

She knocked softly on the door and entered his office. The droplets on the floor form a haphazard line to the ladder heading up to the Commander’s room, his soaked boots and fur coat dumped in a heap with his armor beside it. She clears her throat and calls softly out to him. There was no answer.

Curiosity getting the best of her, she climbs the damp ladder, careful not to slip, and as she lifted herself on the landing, she saw his form sitting on a chair against the wall. His bare chest moving in steady breathing, head full of curling wet hair tilted back, his drenched tunic pulled halfway through his arms that were resting on his lap. He was sleeping soundly. She stood there for a moment, knowing that she’s staring, but no one was around so she allows herself the little indulgence. 

He’s a _really_ attractive man, she thinks to herself. She knew that from the moment they met but seeing him like this just cements the idea. She walks closer until she was inches from him and she studied his face, eyes scanning the light crease in between his brows, the shadows under his lidded eyes, the shape of his nose, the scar on his half open lips, and the stubble adorning the lower half of his face. Her eyes trail down to his chest, rising and falling with his every breath, his broad muscular shoulders, slumped slightly, and his abdomen, well sculpted by years of training and discipline. She reaches out to him, wanting to know how it would all feel under her fingers. But she catches herself and shakes her head. _Well, he can’t sleep like this_, she muses. She taps him on the shoulder and calls out, “Cullen...”

He opens his eyes blearily, pulling an arm off the wet tunic and reaching up to rub his face. “Forgive me, I must’ve drifted off.”

“It’s alright, you deserve some rest but you probably should change out of those clothes.” She smiled, lingering close before stepping back and putting ample distance between them. “I’m sorry for barging in. I didn’t hear you answer when I called out so I had to check if you were still alive.” She chuckled softly.

“Ah, did you need something?” He asked, completely taking the shirt off his arms and tossing it aside. “I hope my armor doesn’t rust.” She barely caught him mutter under his breath.

“I’m here to apologize on Sera’s behalf.” The Inquisitor fiddled with her gloves. “She didn’t mean anything by it.”

“Of course it was Sera.” A low laugh escapes him, something she doesn’t hear often, and he shakes his head, damp curly hair falling off the sides. “You didn’t have to bother yourself with this. I feel like I deserved it.”

“I highly doubt that.” She sighed at the idea. “Did you need help cleaning up?” She asked, ignoring the voice in the back of her head accusing her of wanting to look more and hoping to touch even a little bit.

He holds up a hand, “No, it’s alright. I’ve taken enough of your time.” He stands and reaches down to untie his trousers but stops himself before he could, blushing in realization. “I-I’m sorry, Inquisitor, but I would like to have a change of clothes now.”

She blanks out for a moment, eyes stuck at where his hands are, before the words snap in her head. “Right.” She whispers and dazedly makes her way down the ladder. As she descends, the list of pros and cons she had been piling dances around her hazy thoughts. Fucking her _Commander_ just to relieve stress seems to be a huge downside… but _fucking her Commander_ to relieve stress is an advantage that eclipses all else.

“Cullen.” She called out from below, a slight creak of wood mixes with the sound of his name, making him stop in the middle of putting on a new shirt. “Your offer—”

Another door swings open followed by rushed footsteps. “Ser! News from Crestwood, ser!”

The clack of metal signaling her exit leaves a heaviness in his chest for the second time that day. He curses under his breath before resuming his change of clothes. “I’ll be right down.” 

—

She was soaked to the bone.

The Inquisitor’s head turns up to the sky and glares through the heavy droplets pattering at her face. All the mud and rain has significantly slowed their progress and she wants nothing more than to go back to Skyhold, clean all the grime off her tired body, and sleep beside the warm fireplace in her chambers. She grabs some of the rubble on the floor and throws it in irritation.

“I don’t think flinging rocks at the sky would fix the weather, boss.” Iron Bull quips, followed by a gruff chuckle from Blackwall.

“I’m honestly about to do the same.” Varric remarks, failing miserably at shielding his crossbow from the rain. “All this water isn’t good for my Bianca.”

Their trip had gone on for much longer than what was planned. After meeting up with the warden, Alistair, the Inquisitor had instructed him and Hawke to return to Skyhold ahead of her party as they had to stay behind to close the rift in the lake, a feat they could only achieve after they had drained the dam that kept the area flooded.

And so, they continued on in the storm for days and fought through the bandits occupying Caer Bronach. When they succeeded, they slogged through the keep to find a long bridge leading to a small building, suspended high above the waters below. ‘The Rusted Horn’ the Inquisitor read as they reached its doors, curiously eyeing the signage in the shape of a skull blowing into the named instrument. 

The smell of mold and rotting wood wafted into her nose as they entered the tavern. She hears low whispers and giggling, catches two shadows casted by the dim light at the end of the entryway, and brandishes her weapon when she reaches the figures by the fireplace. A surprised gasp escapes the woman as she jolts away from the man sitting beside her.

“We didn’t know you were here, ser!” The man bolts up to stand, almost tumbling over. “Please don’t tell anyone!”

Sheathing her weapon, the Inquisitor asks in curiosity, “How did you get past the guards?” 

“There weren’t any when we got here.” The woman said timidly, latching her fingers into the arms of the man beside her. 

The Inquisitor looks thoughtfully at the gesture. The man’s other hand moves over hers in a protective hold as he continues their reasoning.

_It must be nice_, a twinge of envy accompanies the thought, _to have the luxury to sneak away with a lover like that._

“You won’t tell people we were here, will you?” The man’s pleading voice breaks her reverie. 

“My lips are sealed.” She assures them and continues on in the room.

She looks down on her bloodstained, mud-soaked clothes and sneers. _The Herald of Andraste doesn’t have time for such excursions,_ she thought bitterly, _she has to roll in mud for days to save the whole of Thedas!_

Her hands grip the bars on the large crank that operates the dam and she glares menacingly at the green glow emanating through the torn glove of her left one.

“I can get that for you, boss.” Iron Bull offers.

“No.” She snaps, resentment coating her voice. “Let me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve written ahead but I should probably not post them in a rush. Thanks for reading btw!


	4. Terms and Conditions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Setting down the rules. Plain and simple.

The air in Skyhold was cold and crisp as always, even as the sun rose at its peak in the sky. All tasks had been done for the day and Cullen had opted to spend some of his free time checking Skyhold’s walls for any instabilities or holes in the guards’ watch. “It’s nice to see you alive and well, old friend.” He hears a familiar voice regard him as he made his way through the battlements. 

“Ser Alistair!” He answers in recognition and walks down the steps to where the other man was idling. “I had heard news of your arrival. I hope the journey wasn’t too arduous?”

“You should know by now I’m used to such trips, Knight-Captai—ah, is it Commander now?” Alistair crosses his arms and remarks, “I must say, I’m very surprised to see you break off of the Templars.” 

A sigh escapes Cullen’s lips. “As you may have heard, Knight-Commander Meredith was instrumental in twisting the Order into the pitiful state it is in now.” Guilt and anger rises up his throat like bile making him scowl in disgust. At his memories, at himself. “I couldn’t be a part of something so abhorrent. My only regret is not realizing it sooner. I could have— ah, I’m sorry.” He shakes his head and lets the emotions fall off his face. “There’s no use dwelling on such matters.”

“Some things just aren’t in our power to control. You made a wise decision, Commander.” Alistair replied with utmost sincerity. “At least Kirkwall has a nice glowing statue now, I heard. I’m quite sad I didn’t get to poke it.” 

A slight smile formed in the Commander’s lips. “Thank you, ser Alistair.” His expression then darkens as he sternly warned, “And it was a morbid sight. Your mind would’ve been poisoned if you so much as touched it.”

He was answered with a sheepish grin.

“Is the Hero of Ferelden not with you?” He couldn’t help but ask.

“Ah, I knew you would ask after her.” The Warden teased making Cullen sputter an apology in reply. 

“It’s alright, Cullen.” He chuckles and continues, “My love is unfortunately on a personal mission in the deep west… but I’m sure she would’ve been proud to see how much you’ve grown.”

“I… I’d have liked to apologize to her. My mind was in a dark place when we parted.” Cullen confessed before he hears the horns signaling the Inquisitor’s arrival. His head snaps to look eagerly at the gates, making Alistair’s eyebrow rise.

“Don’t worry about the past. We have all moved on from it.” Alistair held out his hand to him. “I’ll let you have your leave, Commander.” The Warden’s lips turn up into a knowing smirk. “I’m sure you have a busy day ahead of you.”

Cullen nods as he shook Alistair’s hand and walks back to the ramparts leading to the gates to welcome the Inquisitor.

—

The Commander notes the dried blood and mud coating the party, the stench of fish and gore clinging to their skin. They all looked miserable, even more so the Herald. The loud crunch of the ground coming from her heavy footsteps catches his attention. He raises an eyebrow as he watches her stomp her way into the castle without so much as a greeting to the people waving at her.

“Boss wanted to get back quick. Didn’t even stop to rest.” Iron Bull regarded Cullen’s questioning look.

“She’s been in a bad mood for a while. Nobody knows why.” Varric passed by to take his horse to the stables. “I’d stay away if I were you, Curly.” He warned.

“Wise words.” Blackwall agreed, him and his horse heading in the same direction.

“I guess we’ll have to hold off the council.” Cullen looked thoughtfully after the Inquisitor who had already disappeared into the building.

He followed the same trail to go back up to his office but as he walks through the entranceway, he sees the other two advisors blocking the Herald in the middle of the hall.

“Josephine,_ please_, I just need to wash all this gunk off of me.” He strained to hear the Inquisitor plead.

“I understand the stench is foul,” The Ambassador’s hand moves up to cover her nose. “But this absolutely cannot wait!”

“I think we could spare an hour to let the Inquisitor prepare herself, Josie.” Leliana chimes in, arms resting at her back. “She does smell quite awful.”

“Oh, Leliana, this is news from _Halamshiral_! I am adamant we start planning our course of action right this instant!” Lady Montilyet catches a glimpse of Cullen’s form near the entrance of the hall and calls out to him. “Commander! What perfect timing. Come, let us convene in the War Room.” 

A low groan emanated from the Inquisitor as she got dragged through the Ambassador’s office, into the hallway. Her hair was completely disheveled and there were dark circles under her eyes. The sound of their footsteps seems to be agitating a headache hiding in between her creased brows.

“Perhaps we should let Her Worship rest first?” Cullen couldn’t stop himself from asking.

His question was waved off with the sound of the War Room doors opening and closing. The council begins, much to the Inquisitor’s dismay. Hours passed by and a good amount was spent discussing strategies in ensuring Empress Celene’s safety and which lords and ladies would prove useful to bend to their cause in the upcoming ball.

“I still do not think it wise to bring Sera.” Josephine pointed a concerned look at the Herald. “Iron Bull will certainly entertain the nobility but Sera is…”

The Inquisitor barely stops a snort, making the advisors eye her curiously. “She won’t cause trouble. I’ll keep a close eye on her.” She reassures. “The Red Jennies might prove useful there.”

“I’m also not convinced.” Leliana remarks, crossing her arms. “But if there’s anyone who can keep her in check, it would be the Inquisitor.” 

The Lady Ambassador sighs and shakes her head. “There will be much work to be done, then. I will have to arrange several classes in basic etiquette.” She starts writing down on the board in her hands. “And I’ll have everyone’s measurements taken posthaste.”

“Sounds good.” The Inquisitor breathes deeply and asks. “Are we done here?”

“I’d actually like to discuss the supply lines of our new keep in Crestwood, Your Worship.” Cullen mentions, earning him a disgruntled noise. “But we can do that in your chambers this evening, after you have had some rest.” 

She relaxed and gave him a grateful nod before exiting the room. The other advisors followed suit and the Commander was left thinking if what he said might have sounded inappropriate. _Why in the void am I discussing supply lines in her chambers of all places?_ He swallows the rising shame, rubs the aching muscle in his neck, and makes his way back to his office.

**—**

The night sky veiled the fortress in glittering darkness. Torches burned bright, casting shadows on the soldiers and nobility mulling about its sleepy halls. The birds have long stopped their songs and were replaced with the chirping of crickets. Heavy footsteps echo in the Inquisitor’s room as Cullen made his way up her stairs.

“Thank you for the locks, Commander.” She greeted, head bent down as she read through the stack of reports on her desk. “I’ll make good use of them.”

The memory of why he had them installed comes rushing in his head. The image of her naked body, flushed and— He clears his throat and mutters, “Right.”

He paused for a second to collect his thoughts before resuming his approach towards the Inquisitor’s desk and laying the files he had brought with him on it.

“I have stationed some of our soldiers to guard and patrol Caer Bronach along with Leliana’s scouts.” He reports. “In the case that they might need to move out to gather intel, we will still have enough people to hold down the keep against any remaining group of bandits.” 

The Inquisitor hummed as she wrote a memo on a report before moving onto another, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. 

“They have expressed an interest in reopening the abandoned tavern at the fort. They believe it will help in attracting more merchants and travelers to stop by in the area.” The Commander continues, “I was thinking that we could reroute some more of our own supplies and they could start trade with the locals for ale and such.” 

Paper rustles and the Inquisitor switches to a blank parchment and starts writing, her other hand motioning for him to go on. Slender and soft, her hands seemed, he noted.

“I have already spoken to both Josephine and Leliana. They have some concerns about thinning our stores but I think we can manage seeing as pilgrims have been filing in our doors with carts full of offerings and donations.” His hands move to rest on the pommel of his sword. “I would still like to hear your say on the matter, Inquisitor.” 

The quill’s feather bobbed as she wrote the neat curves of her signature on the paper. Her eyes glittered in the candlelight as she shifts her gaze to him. “It’s a sound idea. I have no qualms with it.” 

Their eyes locked for a moment and he lets himself get lost in the fire dancing in hers for a heartbeat before clearing his throat. She was different tonight. The usual light and cheerful aura was now pushing down on him like a heavy fist. He nodded an end to the conversation and turned to leave but a breathy “Wait.” made him stop in his tracks.

“What are your terms, Commander?”

“Pardon?” He turns back to face her, confusion marking his features.

“Your offer.” She gets up from her chair, the cloth and leather rustles and mixes with the crackles of the fireplace. “What are the terms?”

“Oh, I…” He paused, the confusion ebbs and makes way for the warmth creeping up his neck. “I haven’t thought of… I didn’t think we would need to settle down terms for it.”

She moved over her desk, closer to him, and leans back on it. Arms crossed, she replies, “Perhaps we could discuss it now, then?” She tilts her head and licks her lips. “If you have the time?”

He could feel it. The web of a trap sticks to his feet and holds him firmly onto the floor. There was no turning back. There had been no turning back. It was a web he, himself, had spun.

“Yes…” This was of his own making and it was his duty to the Inquisition to see it through. “Yes, I have the time.” 

She pushes herself off of the desk and heads down the stairs of the room. He hears the harsh clacking of locks from below and it makes him call to the Maker for strength.

“Should we get this in writing?” She asks as she heads back to her desk, her shadow dancing across the light of the fireplace.

“It would be better, I suppose.” He thinks back on his reasons for inciting this situation and steels his resolve. It was for the Herald’s sake.

“Alright.” She grabs a parchment and dips her quill in the inkwell. “We should start with a vow of secrecy. No other soul should know of this arrangement.”

“Of course.” He agreed.

“No talk of work directly before or after.” The sound of the quill scratching rings in his head. “Nor during.”

His brows furrowed in concern but replied, “If you insist.” 

“We shouldn’t linger around each other’s company after it’s done.”

There was a ghost of a twinge in his chest that he easily left ignored. He nodded.

“If we settle on a time and place, I expect you to show up without your armor on.”

The grip on the pommel of his sword tightens. Of course he was to be unarmed in this battle.

“We should always have an ample supply of fresh witherstalk. I have enough for now but I trust that you shall have more of it secured from our supply lines.” Her eyes stick to his for a second before resuming her writing. 

_Oh, Maker._ “It might raise some questions,” The scratching of the quill pauses. “But I can reroute some of the soldiers’ stores to your office.”

“Good.” She reads over the parchment as she asks, “Is there anything else you would like to add, Commander?”

His mind blanks and the shudder of the windows to the cold wind outside matches the one that coursed through his body. He was graced with an expectant look but she waited patiently for him to collect his thoughts. 

“P-perhaps we should settle on a word to use if this gets too much to bear?” He had said after a short silence. “For the both of us, that is.”

“Of course.” The Inquisitor laces her fingers and rests her chin on them. She leans forward and asks, “What do you suggest, Commander?”

He finds himself staring at the map of Ferelden half folded on her desk. His eyes trace a familiar figure in it and absently replies, “Bunny.” 

The Inquisitor’s eyebrow shoots up with an amused smile. “Bunny?”

He realizes what he had blurted out and raises a hand to rub the back of his neck, trying to chase away embarrassment. “Yes. Bunny.”

“Alright.” She giggled, the sound somehow making the color on his face deepen. The quill starts scratching beautifully curved words on the paper again. She pours wax and embeds the Inquisition seal on it. “If that’s all of it, would mind signing this?”

He signs his name, clean and crisp, at the bottom of the terms next to the Inquisitor’s. The formal start of their agreement.

“I’ll make another copy for you to sign and keep.” She rolls the parchment carefully, secures it with a twine, and hides it in her drawer. “And now that we have that settled…”

She rises from her chair, the warm light of the candles casts a dark, hungry look in her eyes.

“Take off all your clothes, Commander.”


	5. Toy Soldier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Inquisitor gets too excited. Cullen gets excited too but won’t admit it.

“Take off all your clothes, Commander.”

It was an order, stern and dripping with authority that he couldn’t help but comply. His body moved like a puppet on strings wielded by the woman in front of him. Slow, methodical. His armor were unclasped by deft fingers and placed on her sofa with care, one by one, next to his hilted sword, just as he had practiced in the Order. Cloth and fur folded neatly, arranged on top of one another. He then took his place in front of her, his stance at ease, naked and bare for her inspection. This is part of his duty to the inquisition.

He doesn’t hear her sharp intake of breath over his loud, beating heart and he doesn’t see her eyes drink their fill as his gaze locked straight to the plush snow blanketing the mountains outside her window. He couldn’t tell if it was the way she licked her lips in his peripheral view or if it was the lingering cold air fighting with the warmth of the fireplace that makes his hair stand on end. 

She takes off her gloves and places them on her desk. Her light footsteps mix with the silence of the night. Her fingers land on him and his breath hitches at the touch. They roam, tracing every imperfection marring his skin, kneading into every line of his muscles, every bit stiffening at each pass. It was wonderfully cruel, he was a toy to play with but this was of his own volition.

The smell of her soap distorts his senses, her hair tickling his skin as she buries her head in the crook of his neck and breathes his own scent deeply. Musk and earth and fire. He stands, still, letting her have her way, awaiting further instructions. He was hers to use.

“Get on the bed.” Excitement and lust coats her tone and it sends a shiver up his spine. He complies slowly, an unknown feeling taking over when he parts with her warmth. He lies on the bed and hears the rustling of her clothes, dropping on the floor little by little and it takes all of his trained discipline to not sit up and leer. She wasn’t his to see.

“You can look, you know.” His heart flutters at the granted permission. He pushes himself up with his elbows and his breath stops at the sight of her.

It was overwhelming, the beauty of her curves and muscles and scars. He had seen it already, flushed and arching on the very bed he was on… but now he can take his time to see every inch and burn it into his mind. She brushes her hair free from its binds and it flows over her skin he so desperately wants to caress. But she wasn’t his to touch.

She gets on the bed and snakes her leg over him, locking his body in a straddle. The warmth of her skin on his was so divine. His hands travel slowly up her thighs, eliciting a soft sigh from her that makes him stop. He can’t get lost in this. It wasn’t his to enjoy.

“You can touch too.” She leaned in and whispered to his ear, her hair cascading down on him, filling his senses even more with her sweet scent.

Intoxicating. He hears the pounding of his heart as his hands travel up and down her body and she sits back up and moans in bliss, urging his fingers to touch more. And so he cups her breasts and strokes its peaks making her teeth bite down on her lip, eyes closed and savoring the feeling. She grinds her core, slick with lust, onto his stiff length and he groans in pleasure.

It was all too much and the thirst for sweet release overwhelms her. She reaches down to his hard, hot manhood and positions it at her entrance. His hands then seizes her hips and he interrupts, voice shy and low.

“You should know… I have only ever been with a woman once before.” Embarrassment blends with the color of arousal on his face. “I apologize if I don’t please you adequately.”

She pauses, releasing her hold on him, her expression manifesting shock and confusion. Then, the rumble of her chest as she laughs travels through her body into his, summoning a warm feeling in his chest.

“Well, that’s a pleasant surprise.” She falls silent for a second and he sees the fire in her eyes blaze hotter with lust. Her fingers trail from his cheeks, his scarred lips, his strong neck, his heaving chest, his sculpted abdomen, down to grab his stiff cock. “Somehow, that makes me want to _fuck you more_, Commander.” She hissed through gritted teeth and plunges her wet sex into his. 

It was electrifying, the feeling coursing through their bodies as he enters her. She moves her hips, slow and torturous at first, savoring each contact of their base, then finding a steady rhythm. Her moans and mewls combines with the wet sounds of their intercourse, slowly chipping away at his self-control. He grits his teeth. He has to let her control the pace. This was for her.

One stroke, hard and deep, makes him close his eyes and lift his hips to push deeper into her. Her head jerks back, loudly moaning his name as the motion makes her fuck him more and more. Her fingers travels down to her clit, rubbing it circles to fuel the delicious sensations burning in her body. He was meeting her thrusts now, her name escaping his lips like a prayer. 

Pleasure jolts through her when his cock hits just the right angle inside her. “There!” She pleads, “Keep fucking me there!”

He grips her hips and starts guiding her. This time he’s the one thrusting and setting the pace. Fast, hard, and _oh so very deep. _Her cries resonate through the room as she rides the onslaught of pleasure, her fingers never stopping their motion. She screams his name as she tips over the edge of her climax, back arching, body shaking, eyes completely shut, and marked hand clutching her breast.

“Fuck, you feel so good.” He growls aggressively and flips her over, all of his restraint shattering like glass as he feels her insides quiver and constrict on his manhood. Her body twitches under him, the last few shreds of orgasm pulsing through her body. All of it drives him to pound into her over and over, chasing his own sweet release. He leans back and pulls her closer to him, her back arching in delight. 

He groans as she pulses on his girth again. He licks his thumb and rubs her bud, copying her earlier movements as he slides in and out of her.

“Oh, Maker!” She exclaims through quick short breaths. “You’re going to make me cum again!”

His grunts and groans become louder, the movement of his hips speed up and breaks into an unsteady rate as he nears his completion. She comes again, a silent “Oh!” hanging off her mouth, breasts still bouncing to his motions now more erratic than ever. He feels her walls tighten and it makes him groan through gritted teeth. The wave of pleasure delivers his own climax and he hastily pulls out, spilling his seed all over her.

He gasps through his ragged breathing. His body twitches as his hand stroked the last bit of pleasure from his sex, face flushed and eyes half-lidded in a daze. 

They stayed like that for a moment, disheveled and spent, chest heaving violently from exertion, before she sits up and revels in the delicious sight of him and smirks. “Are you sure you’ve only done this once before?”

The afterglow dissipates and he looks up at her in mild confusion. 

“Because that was _really _good.” She purrs, a contented smile blooming in her features.

He grew quiet, looking at every inch of her with dark eyes, his cum dripping messily over her naked body. His breathing steadies and he gets off the bed and starts dressing himself up. Just as methodical and practiced. “I’m glad I pleased.” He said, back turned to her.

There was a tone in his voice she couldn’t pinpoint. Shame? Irritation? Frustration? It was really hard to tell and she wanted badly to know, so she moved to the edge of the bed and called out to him. “Cullen?”

He was done putting on his armor by now, faster than he had been at taking it off. He lingers for a moment, mouth slightly open as if to say something, then leaves silently.

She hears the door slam close from below and she’s left wondering what she might’ve said or done wrong.

— 

Cullen had never wanted for much things in life. He was a simple man. So rare were the things he had wished for and actually got. But he is never one to complain. He always steels himself and moves on. 

There were a mess of thoughts and feelings in his head, scattering every time he tries to grip it. He slams his fist into the wall next to him, hoping it would all leave him. Why does he feel like this? He wonders.

A pause.

He tries to swallow down the surge of emotion rising up to his chest but it was for naught as the dam breaks against the intensity of it.

_I liked it_. He answers himself in silence._ No, I immensely enjoyed it._

He wasn’t supposed to. This was supposed to be an outlet for _her_, not him. But the warm feeling of her body grinding on his, the lust in her gaze directed only at him, the way she reached nirvana as he pounded into her, and how beautiful she looked with _his_ seed on her body, the_ Inquisitor_, makes him beam in proud satisfaction.

He covers his mouth with his gloved had. _Stop it, Rutherford! Be an adult!_ This changes everything. This distorts his purpose into something more sinister, more _selfish. _He might have _wanted_ this from the start.

He has sinned. 

He pushes himself off of her door and makes his way to the chantry to pray for the Maker’s forgiveness, gloved hand still covering the crooked grin on his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what am i writing i don’t know


End file.
